Insecurities
by Chiimeriical
Summary: They work both ways, you know. You're not the only one who has them.


**Author's Note: **It'll be short this time. Really. This is all it is. Only... Thank you for your kind reviews, you're all amazing, etc. and ad infinitum.  
**Disclaimer:** Not Rowling. Truly. (Madly, deeply, and bonus to all who get the reference.)  
**Reasoning:** I suppose I just got sick of the fact that the majority of SS and HG fics I read only ever cite Severus' fears, and never really consider Hermione's. It's my turn to give that angle a go.

* * *

It had taken exactly four months and three days for Severus to finally stop sneaking references of his age into their conversation; she knew, because she had counted. At first, she found his insecurity partially endearing, in that it only heightened those enjoyable jitters associated with new romance. But by the end of the fourth month, she was tired of his subtle comments about their obvious age gap. For Merlin's sake, the man acted like she couldn't do simple arithmetic, and deduce his age from his birth year!

But she didn't say anything to him, figuring his insecurity would eventually disappear as he began to realize that she had no intention of (ever) leaving his side. And, as per usual, she was right – eventually, he stopped using their disparate music taste as a way to emphasize the era he grew up in. (Not that she thought music was a good indicator of age or maturity. By his logic, since she listened to classical, she must have been well over two hundred years old.)

And while Hermione had not thought much of his comments at the time, she now realized that all that (not so) subliminal messaging had finally gotten to her.

Hermione liked to think she was a rational, successful woman. She helped defeat the one of the darkest wizards of the era, had done superbly well at Hogwarts, had gotten a well paying job at the Ministry, maintained good relationships with her friends, and still corresponded with some of her professors from Hogwarts – and not just the one that currently acted as her significant other. On top of all this, she believed herself to be relatively confident, as well.

But, as evinced from her bout of self-introspection, she apparently suffered from an overt lack of confidence now, which she blamed squarely on her boyfriend's inability to stop capitalizing on his own insecurity. For, as soon as Severus had stopped mentioning his mature age, her own mind picked up the habit, and had started emphasizing her younger one.

* * *

When Hermione had first fallen into a relationship with Severus Snape – and she meant that literally, as she had fallen right on top of him one day in Diagon Alley, thereby rekindling their acquaintance and thus starting their eventual relationship – his first and only objection to their future pursuit of romantic bliss was the difference of their ages. He had used all sorts of dirty logic against her: claiming he was old enough to be her father, and telling her he would likely be viewed as a paedophile, among other things.

She determinedly swept aside his arguments, letting him know that her parents had had her at a late age, and the likelihood that he possessed the years of her parents was slim. She also informed him of the definition of paedophilia, as memorized by her years earlier in conjunction with her reading of Nabokov's _Lolita_, pointing out that as she was well over eighteen (she was twenty), he was safely past the point of fearing he loved a mere child. She then added in a point of her own, claiming that his relationship with her would be seen in a beneficial light by other older males, who were more likely to be impressed by his "young conquest" than disgusted by it. She could tell he was pleased by that argument by the minute smirk that remained on his face for the next two days.

Still, he had mentioned their difference in age frequently enough to get on her nerves. But now that he had _stopped_ worrying, she had _started_.

* * *

She had insecurities of her own. His unspoken fear – that she would wake up one day, and see an elderly man in the place of her husband – could be flipped to unnerve her: what if _he_ woke up one day, and saw a child instead of a life partner? Then there were those in society who saw a younger woman in a relationship with an older man, and immediately thought of "gold digging" or "life insurance payouts", and she would hate being the target of such speculation. Granted, since they both were of magical descent, she'd be waiting a long time for that payout – if that were the reason for her interest, which it obviously wasn't – but all the same, she had realized long ago that prejudice usually outweighed logic when it came to other people.

And what about her body? For all of Severus' whispered words of adoration that focused on her brain, her intelligence and her mind, there was always a small fear that he most valued her youthful physique. She understood that was natural – regardless of age, he was still male – but what would happen when he realized that, in the long-term, she'd eventually lose that young vitality? Would he want her when she, too, acquired the signs of aging? Did he truly value her mind over her body? Or would he, when the wrinkles appeared, become disillusioned with her?

These questions festered in her mind for days, to the point where she was barely speaking to Severus, so great was her fear and paranoia.

* * *

They had been in a relationship for five months now, and Hermione had grown increasingly fearful as the weeks went by. Severus was happy, she believed (though one never could really tell with him), but she was constantly bordering on the precipice of true melancholy. She must have done a good job of hiding it, though, for he never questioned her about her somewhat odd behaviour. But then, one night, as she sat despondently, her legs tucked underneath her, a book forgotten on the chair's armrest, Severus appeared through her fireplace in the green flames that signified Floo travel.

He stepped out regally, brushing his hands over his now-rumpled, black robes. Having finished dusting himself off, he then fixed her with a stern look that threatened to send her back to memories of her school days. Which only supported her idea that what she was about to do was completely, unequivocally right.

Before she could open her mouth, he beat her to it.

"I've come here with the sole purpose of finding out why you suddenly have insisted on acting like someone has killed your Kneazle," he stated, his voice flat. Hermione rather thought he might inquire about the weather in the same tone of voice.

"I've not been acting like that," she replied exasperatedly, knowing full well that she had, but not wanting to admit he was right. "I've just been… thinking, lately."

A lesser woman might not have caught the slight entrance of fear's glimmer in his eyes, but Hermione was not a lesser woman. Indeed, she saw it, but refused to acknowledge it.

Snape's voice was tight as he answered, "Oh?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Yes. _Oh_."

Snape was sorely tempted to start shifting from foot to foot awkwardly, but covered his nervousness with a clearing of his throat. Then, he said, "And what, exactly, have you been thinking about?"

Hermione sighed, knowing that what she was doing was likely damaging to a man like Severus, who had admitted to her early on that his experience with relationships was not nearly as extensive as his Potions knowledge. "I've been thinking about us."

Severus' shoulders lifted infinitesimally. "About… us? What exactly about… us?"

Hermione was almost near tears. This was not at all what was supposed to be happening! She had _planned_ to have a rational, intelligent conversation with him about possibly breaking things off, due to all the insecurities she had suddenly garnered after agreeing to be with him; now, all she wanted to do was run into his arms and cry. And damn it – that only proved her point! She was obviously too immature to be with him if merely having an adult conversation made her teary!

Her eyes somewhat watery, she looked at Snape fully, noting his clenched jaw and the way his hands dangled at his sides. They were such warm, graceful hands, and she really didn't want to give them up. But she knew he deserved the truth. _I am not a Gryffindor for nothing. You'll have this conversation right now, because it's the proper thing to do._ "Severus, do you think… Is this right?"

He let out a breath through his nose. "Is _what_ right, Hermione?"

"Our relationship. Is it right?"

Snape's eyes darkened, and Hermione could almost feel his emotional walls being additionally safeguarded. "What aspect are you talking about?" He moved a step closer to her, then seemed to decide against his plan of action, and took two steps back. "Are you talking about equality? Openness? Or how right it is that you've obviously been unhappy these last weeks and have neglected telling me?" The last was said in an angry tone.

"I'm not talking about any of those. Though I'm sorry if I've not been open. It was unintentional."

"We both know that's a lie. Don't employ fallacy, Hermione; I'm older than you, and I've seen and heard enough of it to last me a lifetime."

"That's what I'm talking about!" She exclaimed exasperatedly. And then, to her consternation, tears started to fall. Oh, she _hated_ that any type of vehement emotion was wired to her tear ducts! It made being angry very uncomfortable.

Severus looked startled at her outburst. "I don't follow."

"The age," she paused to sniff pathetically, "the age difference. That's what I mean."

He looked at her with a baffled expression, and were she not trying to resist bawling her eyes out, she might have thought to remember the way he looked in this moment. "But you were the one who said…" He started, looking at her somewhat calculatingly. His mind raced to a conclusion, and when he found it, a small, knowing smile drifted onto his face.

He took one step towards her, then two, and then three, and then he was upon her, his arms strong around her back as she buried her face in his robes. For a good half minute, he let her sniffle and then nuzzle him; inwardly trying not to think of the cleaning the robe would need afterwards. But, he realized instantly, he didn't really mind it. When her body stopped quivering, he tilted her chin upwards, noting her red eyes.

"I suppose I should have realized voicing my fear might foster fears of your own," he said, his voice low and warm. Hermione couldn't help the heat that spread through her body at his words. "Though it was right of me to speak them, and in the future, I expect the same from you," he added, fixing her with a stern look. "But regardless… wait, let us sit down."

He moved them over to her chair, and placed himself on the cushion, Hermione enclosed in his lap. She tried to squirm off, mumbling something about being too heavy for such a thing, to which he replied with a smirk and proceeded to hold her tighter.

"Now, let me see if I understand this fully. My insecurity about my age has caused you to worry about your own, correct?"

Hermione nodded, and he continued on, feeling the heat of her back through the front of his robes and moving to rest his chin on her shoulder. Their disparate heights made it a surprisingly comfortable position.

"And now you fear that… what? Your age is detrimental to our relationship?" He murmured into her hair.

Her eyes flickered around the room as she struggled to grasp the right words. "I think that my younger age… and please, don't take this the wrong way – might have been a deciding factor in your wish to pursue me."

He chuckled. "You must think me a very shallow man indeed."

Hermione frowned in annoyance. "That's not what I'm trying to say…"

He cut her off by turning his head and nuzzling her neck. "Stop, Hermione, and let me see if my powers of deduction are still as sharp as ever." He drew in a deep breath before continuing, "You wish to know if our relationship is 'right', in terms of age. And my response is: by society's standards, it is not. There will always be those who look at us and will name themselves arbiter, declaring I a lecher and you a naïve fool." He paused here, to let that sink in, and rejoiced inwardly at the tension that seemed to dissipate from her body. "But who are they to us? Our relationship is our own. Do not let fear of others create insecurities that didn't cross your mind previously."

Hermione remained silent for a while, soaking in the feeling of his arms around her, and the warmth of his breath on her neck. Then, a shadow crossed her face. "But my concerns about… my body. Are those unfounded?"

Severus smiled into her shoulder. "Yes, Hermione. Though your body is wonderful, it is merely a bonus in comparison to your mind and spirit. Though I do believe you are the _only_ woman of my acquaintance who wants reassurance of the appeal of her mind over her physique."

She couldn't help it – she started to laugh. It took her a minute to compose herself, but when she did, she turned around to face him, a radiant smile on her face. "Forgive a woman her foibles, Severus."

His lips quirked upwards in what passed for a grin. "As you're well aware, you're not the only one with them, Hermione. Take this old man, for example…"

And this time, instead of wincing at the allusion to age, Hermione just smiled wider.


End file.
